Rules to Live By
by Haybelle613
Summary: "I am not going to negotiate. I am not going to rethink this. I am, however, giving you one last warning that I am going through with this plan and would hate to have to kill an Avenger because you couldn't bother to follow simple instructions." Clint may have to kill to protect but with him so busy saving his team who will save him?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Thanks for checking out my story. I'm not sure what to say here other than this is my first fanfiction. Hope its good.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers. I wish I did. I don't though.**

* * *

Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives. -Richard Bach

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Natasha's voice came through the comms link in Clint's ear.

Clint took a sip from his water bottle again before sighing and leaning back in his chair. "I'm not sure about anything but he's still got five more minutes before he even has to be here."

"I don't like it," Natasha said. "It feels off."

"You just can't imagine anyone wanting to meet me more than you," Clint said with a chuckle but the bravado was just that, bravado. He too felt uneasy about the situation. A source calling in claiming high-interest information in exchange for a meeting with the famous Hawkeye, well, it was unusual to say the least. "Besides, you'll be there to watch my back."

Clint wouldn't blow Natasha's cover by turning around to look at her but he could feel her gaze on his neck. As always, she was there for him. "Quiet. Someone's coming."

Clint looked around until his eyes landed on a man dressed in an expensive looking suit and followed by a man who might have been part grizzly. Clint was on the shorter side for a man but his training leveled the playing field significantly. However, he had a feeling that if it came down to a fight between the grizzly-man and himself he wouldn't be placing any bets. The well-dressed man sat down at the table with Clint but the bodyguard remained standing at his right shoulder. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Barton."

"Not to sound cliché but obviously you have me at a disadvantage," Clint said. It was a tacky move, a move Natasha abhorred, to show your information as a form of intimidation. Clint would not be daunted.

"I'm sure one would be hard pressed to every put the famous Hawkeye at a disadvantage but my name is Kline. Jonas Kline," the man said. "And like I said, it's a pleasure."

"Sure," Clint replied.

Natasha's voice came through again. "Play nice. He has information SHIELD wants."

Clint sighed, "The pleasure is all mine."

The man chuckled. "They told you to be pleasant, make sure the source felt comfortable, right?"

"Look," Clint said, eager to make sure the man knew he would jump through no hoops for this information. "You asked for a meeting with me in exchange for the information you would give us. Here I am."

"Here you are," Kline repeated.

"Are you going to share the information?" Clint asked.

Kline gave the archer a grin that reminded him of a car salesman. Clint had not come here to strike a deal. "Well, as interesting a person you are Agent Barton, the information I have could change much of the world. The meeting was simply a way to get in contact with you."

"I don't have the authority to make deals on behalf of SHIELD," Clint said. He wasn't entirely sure if he did have that authority considering the problem had never arisen but he didn't want the authority anyways.

"This deal has little to do with SHIELD and more to do with its top assassin," Kline said. "I have many enemies and you are the best."

Clint was marked speechless. He narrowed his eyes at the man and through gritted teeth replied, "I am not a hired gun."

"You are an assassin earning a wage correct?" Kline asked.

Clint snapped back a reply. "I am a sniper working for a legitimate government agency."

"Call it what you want. The information is highly valuable and worth about 150% of your rate when you were taking contracts before," Kline said.

Clint didn't want the reminder of the weak time in his life. "I'm done with that. Now, if you'd like money I'm sure SHIELD would be happy to negotiate but-"

Kline interrupted. "I will accept nothing but the best."

Clint froze. All Director Fury had talked about for the past week leading up to this mission was how desperately SHEILD needed this information. Would they want him to take the contract? Natasha's voice came back through. "I know you're considering it. Tell him to shove it and leave. You're working at getting rid of the red not adding to it. Fury will just figure something else out."

Natasha was right. His reasons for joining SHIELD had been to better himself not allow SHIELD to loan out his skills to whoever had the best information. Clint stood. "I'm sorry then. We're done here."

Clint turned and walked away but not before Kline got in some final words. "We may be done here, Agent Barton, but we shall meet again. Until then, tell your redheaded friend over there I said hi."

Clint hesitated but resisted the urge to turn around and shoot him with the gun at his hip. He took a deep breath and kept walking. It was only with a momentary pause that he shoved the feelings inside the pit of his stomach away. Surely those rolling feelings were only unease and not fear.

Natasha met up with him at the rendezvous point as usual. Somewhere along the way she had abandoned the newspaper she'd had at the café and changed clothes. The red sundress on her looked dazzling. Of course, the Black Widow could wear a garbage bag and still be the most beautiful woman in the room. Clint, however, paid surprisingly little attention to Natasha. Instead he went over the meeting in his head and wondered how it had gone so wrong so fast. Natasha grabbed his arm and stopped him in the street. "Stop. You're going to worry yourself to death. I think we've all done enough distressing over the past few months without you picking apart a simply meeting."

"I just, well, I didn't think I would have even considered it," Clint said. He pulled her hand off his arm but kept hold of it. "When I left that part of my life I was sure that nothing would be important enough for me to consider taking a contract."

"So what made you consider it this time?" Natasha asked. "Surely it wasn't SHIELD's desire for the information."

"Well, maybe a little bit. Mostly I just started thinking about you and the fact that if I took the contract that'd be just one less mission you'd have to go on," Clint said. He said it slowly like he knew the anger it would cause in his fiery haired and tempered partner. He did know.

Natasha's eyes lit up. "And it would have been one more mission for you. We promised not to do that. I can handle myself just like you can."

"I'm human," he said. "What happened with Loki made that painfully clear."

"We're all human," Natasha said. She paused and then amended, "Well, except for Thor but that's really a special case."

"We aren't all human, Nat, mostly just you and me," he said.

She smiled and corrected him, "You and I."

"Whatever," Clint said with a roll of his eyes. "The fact is that I turned the contract down. With any luck Kline will disappear and I won't have to think about him again."

Natasha leaned forward to lay a kiss on his cheek. "That's my Hawk."

* * *

Clint dropped onto the couch in Stark Tower. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten here. In the literal version of that he knew he'd debriefed at base, caught a ride with Natasha, and took the elevator up to this floor. In the way that he questioned how he'd managed to find himself living in Stark's tower, it had been only two months after the events in New York. First Banner had moved in, grateful for a place to call home permanently, soon after Tony had renovated Stark Tower to include space for Steve who had been living in SHEILD headquarters. Clint's invitation to stay with Stark had come by a mere accident. Truthfully, the people Clint worked with had mostly accepted him back into the fold. They understood exactly what had happened to Clint under Loki's control. Some of the people around him didn't agree that he should be let off the hook. On a chance visit with Steve Clint opened his room to find the word MURDERER painted in red on the wall. Clint hadn't been all that surprised when the next day Stark came with an offer to stay. Steve had seemed concerned after all. Natasha went with him wherever he went. Soon the Avengers were in Stark Tower and Fury was confused as to how he'd lost control of the team.

"You look tired, Katniss," Tony said plopping down on the couch next to him. The man had more energy in him than anyone needed but he made up for it by being nearly dead any time before noon. "All work and no play makes Legolas a very dull boy."

"Can it, Tony," Clint replied. "It's been a long day."

Tony put his arms behind his head and leaned back into the couch. The movement caused his shirt to stretch over the arc reactor in his chest. "So, movie night again? Maybe you'll make it through the whole Lord of the Rings movie before you fall asleep this time."

Clint highly doubted it but it didn't matter anyways. "I can't. I have to pack."

"Pack? Fury sending you on another mission already?" Tony asked. "There are laws against overworking one's employees."

"I'm not going on a mission. Besides, this last trip was just a meeting. I haven't had a mission since New York," Clint said.

Tony frowned. "Well then, where are you off to?"

"It's protocol," Natasha said. Clint wondered what had taken her so long to join him. The Lord knew he preferred her company to Tony's any day. "As an agent of SHEILD if one of us is ever threatened by name he or she is removed from the area and put in a safe house. It's to protect us as much as him."

"Well that sucks," Tony stated bluntly. "Are you sure you don't want to drop SHIELD and just do the Avengers thing full time?"

"I'm sure Tony," Clint replied. Actually, he and Natasha had talked about doing just that. They decided that they actually enjoyed working for SHIELD. For right now they could and would do both. "I could use the vacation anyways. Who doesn't enjoy a good safe house in the middle of nowhere?"

Tony raised his right hand. "Well, me for starters. Whatever, Bird Brain, do what you want."

"I always do," Clint replied.

Thirty minutes later Clint was packed for a four week trip and was on his way to the safe house he'd be tucked away at during that time. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window. The sun was setting and he grew more tired with each passing second. Oh yes, a vacation away would be ideal.

* * *

After a little over five hours in a car to the Adirondack Mountains and a eight hour nap after that Clint woke up to the beeping of his wristwatch at nine-thirty. The sun was already peeking through his bedroom's window shades. He stretched in his bed and considered turning off the alarm and going back to sleep. It was a bad habit to start so with only a mild sense of regret he got up. He paced around the room for a bit, unsure what he was supposed to do with all this time. He'd seen this protocol go into effect although this was the first time it had ever been used for him. Natasha was always close to her targets so they were more likely to threaten her. He was questioning whether he could have dragged her along with him when his phone rang.

It was secure, so he wasn't worried it would give him away, but he couldn't imagine any needing to call him. Natasha wasn't sentimental enough to be missing him after only hours away and the rest of them would never think to call. He picked it up, read blocked on the front, and realized it must be Fury. "This is Agent Barton."

"Greetings," said a voice that was very much not Fury.

The voice, however, did sound familiar. "Who is this?"

"Why, Agent Barton, I'm almost insulted you don't remember me. We only met yesterday," The voice said.

There was only one person Clint had met yesterday. "Kline."

"The one and only," he replied.

"How did you get this number?" Clint demanded.

"Are you near a computer?" Kline asked.

Clint looked around the safe house until his eyes fell on the laptop at the desk. "Why?"

"Good. You have one," Kline said. "I'll give you a moment to connect to the internet."

"Look, I told you once already that I am not going to kill anyone for you. This conversation is over," Clint replied.

"Clint," Kline said. Clint stiffened at the use of his first name. "Please connect to the internet so I may direct you to a website I believe you'll have a lot of interest in."

Clint considered simply hanging up on the man. He almost did but instead, something in Kline's voice made him take a seat at the desk. "Give me a minute."

"Thank you," Kline said calmly.

Clint fired up the computer, logged in, and finally connected to the internet. "Alright, what website am I heading to?"

Kline rambled off an IP address with more numbers than pi and then finally told him to enter. The screen changed to a simple log in box. "Are you going to supply me with the username and password?"

"It certainly works in my benefit if I do," Kline replied. "Username is Clint Barton. I'm sure you can figure out the spelling on that one. The password is assassin."

Clint ground his teeth together but didn't reply. After hitting the LOG IN button the screen faded to black for a moment. Slowly a single box appeared on the screen. Above the box read, STEVE ROGERS. On either side of Steve's name were arrows pointing to the sides of the screen. The box loaded to show what appeared to be one of the training rooms. The mirrors in the room were foggy though. Finally Clint's eyes landed on the shivering shape in the corner. Steve was rubbing his hands together to keep warm but from all the quivering Clint didn't think it was working. The room had to be miserably cold for it to affect Steve. Clint hit one of the arrows and watched the video change to Natasha and Bruce surrounded by armed guards. Bruce was meditating with closed eyes. Clint couldn't figure out why Natasha wasn't fighting back until she reached up and scratched her nose. In doing so she dragged Bruce's hand up with her, handcuffed. Natasha appeared to apologize to which Bruce kept his eyes closed but managed a small smile. He hit the arrow again and the video changed. Several of Tony's new Iron Man suits surrounded him in his lab. Clint couldn't even imagine how the suits had got up and walked by themselves. Tony reached for something but when one of the suits took a step towards him he quickly raised his hands up in surrender. "What the hell is this?"

"It's quite the genius idea if I do say so myself," Kline replied. "I asked very nicely and even offered some information well worth your services. I tried to work with you."

"This better be some kind of joke," Clint snapped. He kept flipping from one screen to the next.

Kline remained calm. "This is no joke. I am a man unaccustomed to being told no but it has happened. This was my backup plan."

"I am not going to kill someone for you. What don't you get about that?" Clint asked.

Kline sighed over the phone. "I didn't want to make this harder than it had to be. Let me make myself clear. There are four people in Stark Tower right now that you are fairly close to. In reality, I only need one of them to make this work. Do I need to kill one of them to prove my point? If I shot Dr. Banner how do you think the Hulk would react?"

Clint went to Natasha and Bruce's video stream. The Hulk might have developed some tolerance for the team but in the heat of the moment. Natasha was so close. Clint swore and then said, "Fine."

"I'm glad we could work something out," Kline said.

"I swear to God if you hurt them…" Clint let the threat trail off.

Kline seemed to take the hint. "Nothing has to happen to them if you just do what I ask."

Clint stood up and it took all the strength in him to resist the urge to kick something. "What do I need to do?"

"Catch a plane to London," Kline said. "I'll explain more there."

"Why can't I just know now?" Clint asked.

"Don't be impatient," Kline said sounding slightly impatient himself. "I don't want you rattling off information to SHIELD. Speaking off which, let's lay down some guidelines."

"Oh, just say it. They're rules," Clint said.

"Call them what you want," Kline permitted. "Rule number one, don't involve SHIELD. That's a hassle you don't need."

Clint didn't miss the warning there. "Any other rules I should worry about?"

"I'll let you know as I think of some," Kline said. "Until then, be intelligent and don't try to make this harder than necessary. I have four, I need one."

"I can do simple math," Clint snapped.

"London," Kline repeated and then he hung up.

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**AN: And that's that. Leave a reply! (They make me update faster!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you to theaterinspired for reviewing. Many thanks to all the people who alerted, favorited, and read as well. PLEASE NOTE: I will likely not be posting twice a week. More than likely I will make weekly posts on Thursday nights. Just so you know. However, in this case I had Chapter Two all typed up and ready t post and I wanted to see how my readers thought it was going. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Simple as that.**

* * *

_Last Chapter_

_"I'll let you know as I think of some," Kline said. "Until then, be intelligent and don't try to make this harder than necessary. I have four, I need one."_

_"I can do simple math," Clint snapped._

_"London," Kline repeated and then he hung up._

* * *

We can try to avoid making choices by doing nothing, but even that is a decision. –Gary Collins

* * *

_Earlier that morning-5:45AM_

"How long have you been up Tony?" Pepper asked him. Her face took up the screen as he video-chatted with her for the third time in two days. She wore a frown that spoke of the worry she felt.

Tony focused on the Iron Man suit in front of him. This latest idea had put him in the lab to make the vision a reality. Of course, the inventing process was nothing new for Tony or Pepper. "Only a day, I came down Tuesday morning."

"And it's Friday morning," Pepper said.

Tony winced. Looking down on the Iron Man suit on the table he realized he'd completed too much work to be condensed into only twenty-four hours. "Oops."

"Oops? Tony, you can't keep doing this. It's not healthy," Pepper plead.

Tony ran a hand through his hair, set down his tools, and gave her a typical Tony Stark grin. "I'm almost done. I'll finish this and then sleep for three days. I promise."

"You'd better," she said. "Jarvis, if he finishes that damn robot and then keeps working I want you to shut all the power off to the lab."

"I love you too," Tony said. The connection between them went dead. Tony resumed work for a moment and then asked, "You wouldn't really do that to me would you, Jarvis?"

"Miss Potts has threatened to pull my plug more than once, sir," the AI gave as his answer.

Tony just shook his head. "Traitor."

Now that Pepper had pointed out exactly how long he'd been up Tony started to feel all those sleepless nights catching up with him. He rubbed his eyes a few times but still managed to complete the suit before the new hour. Tony moved the tools from the table and raised his hands in the air. "Triumph! Jarvis, fire this baby up. I want to see it fly."

"Sir, Miss Potts demanded you take some time to rest," Jarvis replied.

It amazed Tony that the computer he'd created could be so manipulated by Pepper. "And I demand the suit fly. One test, Jarvis, that's all I want."

Jarvis made a sigh and then said, "You do show a tendency to sleep longer after a test has been completed."

"Yes!" Tony exclaimed. The lights on the suit flickered on slowly one by one. All that was left was the central control in the helmet and then, blackout. The lab, the suit, everything went dark. Tony slammed his fist on the table. "Come on, Jarvis. I thought we decided on one test."

The lab's lights flickered back on and the suit, unlike the slow process the first time, blazed on at once. The eyes flickered and then the suit sat up. Tony took a step back, "Whoa. Jarvis, status report."

There was silence. Tony frowned, "Jarvis, status report. Jarvis?"

Finally Jarvis' voice came back but when he spoke it lacked the familiarity Jarvis always brought. "Tony Stark identified at location Lab 0013. Containment protocol instituted."

"Containment protocol? We don't have a containment protocol," Tony said.

The suit stood up and aimed a repulsor at Tony. There was a crashing noise and suddenly the other three prototypes of various Iron Man suits joined the party. They all were without a driver and all had repulsors aimed at him. "Tony Stark identified at location Lab 0013. Containment protocol instituted. Please await further instructions."

Tony wasn't exactly sure what was going on but one thing he did know. It wasn't anything good.

* * *

_Also at 5:45AM_

Although Steve had never been a huge Sinatra fan, believing him to be just another man with looks and talent like he'd never had, the gentle crooning coming from the stereo while Steve ran was comforting. It, like so many other things, reminded him of home. Steve kept a steady pace around the track with the thumping of his feet creating a different beat than the music. Steve was pretty sure he didn't actually have to exercise to maintain his abilities. He'd managed to sleep for nearly a century without gaining any body fat. No, Steve worked out so that he had something to do other than sleep. If he waited until he was absolutely exhausted he didn't tend to worry he might sleep through another seventy years.

Steve's phone went off in his pocket. Tony had offered to make a copy of his phone for Steve but Steve couldn't figure out how to work Tony's phone so he just got the simplest phone available. It even flipped up to open. Tony looked sick every time he saw it. He pulled it out, opened it, and answered. "This is Rogers."

"Captain Rogers, this is Director Fury," the man said.

Steve sighed. "Yeah, I figured that out with caller ID."

"Sorry, Captain. I just assume…" the Director trailed off.

Steve sighed again. "What can I do for you Director?"

"We took a look into this Kline guy. He's a nasty piece of work. I just want to make sure you all get the heads up. I tried contacting Stark but he's ignoring my calls as usual," Fury said with surprisingly only a hint of frustration. "Just keep your eyes peeled. You all need to be careful. He wants-"

Steve didn't catch the rest. "What? He wants what?"

Silence was all that greeted him. Steve looked down at the phone. The screen read, CALL DROPPED. Steve closed his eyes in frustration and said, to no one in particular, "And this is why I don't like technology."

Steve, his hearing heightened by the serum, caught the sound of a faint ringing and then everything went dark. Steve froze unwilling to take a step and risk walking into something. "Hello?"

The lights abruptly turned back on and a slight hissing noise replaced the ringing. Steve looked up to where the vents seemed to be producing some kind of mist. Steve reached up, too late wondering if the mist was safe to touch, and stuck his hand in the mist. He hissed out in pain and pulled his hand back. The tips of his fingers were covered in ice. The air blowing out of those vents was cold. Steve sprinted over to the thermostat and tried to turn the heat back up. All his button pushing wasn't doing anything to change the rapidly falling temperature. Very rapidly falling temperature, Steve thought as he watched his breath billow out in front of him.

The mirrors were already fogging up in the cold temperatures when Steve got to the exit from the work-out room. He pushed on the handle but the door wouldn't budge. He drove his shoulder into the door and when that didn't work tried kicking it down. Nothing he did made even dented it. When Tony had remodeled the tower for the Avengers he'd made some changes to the structure. Every room was Hulk proof. Apparently, that meant it was Captain America proof too.

The temperature was still dropping. Even with his heightened tolerance Steve had started shivering. He instantly regretted wearing shorts and a t-shirt to work out in even if there hadn't been a reason not to when he'd put them on.

Steve wasn't exactly sure what was going on but one thing he did know. It wasn't anything good.

* * *

_Also, also at 5:45AM_

Natasha couldn't sleep. It was probably a combination of not having been on a mission for so long and worrying about Clint. She could only wonder how he was doing. Then she chuckled, knowing Clint he was enjoying the alone time. He found being alone something to look forward to. That hadn't exactly helped him become part of the group but after helping Bruce with his problem, well; the group had accepted him anyways. There was probably nothing to worry about.

"You can't sleep either?" Bruce asked as he walked into the kitchen.

Natasha gave him a warm smile. "What's keeping you up?"

He only chuckled for an answer. "You shouldn't worry. Clint will love a month without us to bother him."

Natasha looked down. "How did you know?"

"How did I know you were worried about him?" he asked. She nodded and he replied, "We can all see it, Natasha."

"It's not like that," she defended.

Bruce shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with being in love with someone."

Natasha frowned. "Love is for children."

"When you get tired of repeating that mantra we'll bring this topic of conversation up again," Bruce said.

Natasha gave a very unladylike snort. She opened the fridge. "You want something to drink?"

"I don't know," he replied. "Does Tony have anything stronger than orange juice?"

She gave him a look complete with an arched eyebrow. "This is Tony we're talking about. Tony doesn't even know what orange juice is unless it's in a Fuzzy Navel."

Bruce caught the beer bottle she threw at him with only minor fumbling and a heavy sigh of relief. "What really worries you?"

"Protocol doesn't actually work," Natasha said. "I mean, you of all people should know that the government is not perfect. I mean, theoretically this should keep him safe but that's with the theory that the threat is always against the agent."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

Natasha explained. "Think about it. This guy calls up with information SHIELD would do anything to get and all he asks for is Clint. He doesn't want to kill Clint or harm him he wants to use him. Clint turns him down. What's this guy's next move?"

Bruce frowned. "Well, he won't kill him. He wanted to use him. He can't do that with Clint dead."

"Exactly," Natasha said. "So, he has to find Clint and make him work for him. What's the guy's next move?"

"To go after someone Clint knows," Bruce said. "But Clint doesn't have any family left."

"That's right. He has us," Natasha said.

Bruce set his beer down on the counter and frowned deeper. "Surely no one would be stupid enough to take on the Avengers. Not after the fight over the summer."

The kitchen went dark. Natasha cleared her throat. "Might want to rethink that."

The lights snapped back on to reveal ten armed men in black. Bruce put his hands up. Natasha glared and spun around to run. She tried to open the kitchen door but found it sealed. "Jarvis?"

No response. One of the men started for her. She aimed a kick at his face which he dodge but he was too late to miss the punch to his stomach. She twisted to kick again, this time connecting with his face, and used his moment of disorientation to leap on his back. He reached back to dislodge her but she managed to get her hands under his chin and yank a hard left. The snap of his neck was very audible.

"Natasha!" Bruce shouted. She froze. One of the men had made his way to Bruce and had a gun aimed at his head. He was gripping the edge of the counter and breathing heavily. For a moment all Natasha could see was Bruce on the Helicarrier transforming but the vision was gone and she was reminded that the problem was here and now. He spoke through gritted teeth. "Now would not be a great time to unleash the Hulk."

Natasha had to agree. In Hulk form, Bruce got along with everyone on the team…everyone except her. Tony claimed it was because of all of them she was the only one still terrified of the Hulk. Maybe he was right. Natasha held her hands up. One of the men grabbed her arm. He attached the bracelet of a pair of handcuffs to her wrist and then attached the other bracelet to Bruce's wrist. Natasha swallowed hard.

"That's really not a good idea," Bruce mumbled.

Natasha leaned closer to him. "Bruce, if you change what are my chances being attached to your wrist?"

Bruce winced. "I've got it under control for now."

"Right," Natasha replied well aware Bruce hadn't actually answered the question.

Natasha wasn't exactly sure what was going on but one thing she did know. It wasn't anything good.

* * *

_Back to 9:00AM_

Bruce didn't have a whole lot of experience with handcuffs but he was quickly realizing that being handcuffed to another person could get real uncomfortable real fast. Every shift on Natasha's part no matter how small had her yanking his hand. Maybe it wasn't uncomfortable so much as it was frustrating, especially for someone who was trying to meditate to keep his heart rate down. Natasha changed her position causing Bruce's hand to fly off his knee. He sighed causing Natasha to reply, "Sorry."

He chuckled. "It could be worse. I could be chained to Tony."

"Yes, but it could be better. Steve wouldn't need to move every four seconds. Clint can sit still for hours and hours. I don't know how he does it honestly," Natasha said.

Bruce sighed. "It's okay Natasha. You're worrying is actually making it worse."

She reached up to scratch her nose and Bruce's hand went flying up with her. She sighed. "I'm sorry."

Bruce just laughed but quietly he resumed his counting, "Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten."

He opened his eyes. The sight of the guns still bumped his heart rate up a bit but he had a fairly good hold on himself. "Where are Captain Rogers and Tony?"

The men didn't say anything. Natasha put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure they're fine. Hell, Tony's probably building something to get us out of here right now."

"Attention. Containment protocol continued. Isolation protocol continued. Threat not active. Repeat. Threat not active," Jarvis' voice came through. The gun toting guards visibly relaxed. "Await further instructions."

Bruce wasn't exactly sure what was going on but one thing he did know. It wasn't anything good.

* * *

**AN: Sorry to all the Clint fans out there. There will be more of him next chapter though. I wanted to make sure everyone knew what went down at Stark Tower. Don't forget to review. All of you.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks to my two reviewers! Your words were inspiring and I'll always be grateful. Thanks as well to my new followers and favoriters. I would love to hear from all of you as well but even knowing that you're reading helps make this story easier to write. Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: (Insert witty disclaimer idea here.)**

* * *

"Attention. Containment protocol continued. Isolation protocol continued. Threat not active. Repeat. Threat not active," Jarvis' voice came through. The gun toting guards visibly relaxed. "Await further instructions."

Bruce wasn't exactly sure what was going on but one thing he did know. It wasn't anything good.

* * *

We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them. –Kahlil Gibran

* * *

_5:13PM – East Coast Time (10:00PM London)_

Clint disembarked from the plane with his new black and purple backpack over his right shoulder. It was large enough to carry a few changes of clothes, money, and his new iPad but small enough to be considered carry-on. Once in the airport he took a seat at an empty table in the Starbucks away from the rest of the guests. He pulled out the iPad and connected to the internet. He was getting so used to pulling up the site that he didn't even think about the IP address as he typed it in. He was more concerned with the images he saw when he pulled it up. Tony had finally stopped trying to grab everything in sight and had reverted to spinning around his computer chair like a bored child. If not for the extreme seriousness of the situation Clint might have found a way to get a still of the image. Natasha and Bruce were leaned against the counter and each other. Right in that moment, Clint wanted nothing more than to be there for Natasha, to let her rest her head on his shoulder. He could see the dark circles beneath her eyes, but alas he was here and Bruce would have to take his place. Finally, Clint looked over Steve's video feed. The man was facing a dark fear of the cold, alone and without information. Construction on Avengers Tower was still ongoing and the training rooms had yet to be connected to Jarvis.

Clint's phone vibrated. He put the iPad away and picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Agent Barton, I see you've made it to London okay and you've picked up some new technology while you were at it," Kline said.

Clint's eyes shot up as he scanned the airport for someone looking his direction. Somehow, Kline could see him. "You're watching me."

"Let's assume I'm always watching," Kline said.

Clint couldn't find anyone. "I got the iPad so I could keep an eye on them."

"I'm not upset," Kline said easily. "As long as you don't use it to contact anyone it's easier this way. I won't have you demanding proof of life every time we turn around."

"You know, the people you've so callously locked up saved your life. If Loki had succeeded-" Clint started.

Kline didn't let him get very far with it. "Death and destruction, have I mentioned your tendency towards the melodramatic? Besides, this has little to do with the Avengers and a lot to do with you, Agent Barton. Suck it up and do what I tell you to and we don't have a problem."

In Clint's opinion, Kline was very lucky to be out of Clint's shooting range. He doubted Kline could keep up that smug smile Clint could practically hear through the phone if Clint shot him between the eyes with an arrow. "I want you to move Captain Rogers, and separate Dr. Banner from Agent Romanoff."

"I'm going to have to say no," Kline replied.

Clint growled. "You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly," Kline replied. "I planned this out very carefully and did a lot of research into your friends before I launched into action. I'm highly aware of the situations I put them in and they were designed to keep the threat active. I won't lie to you, Agent Barton; they are in danger entirely to keep you in line. You therefore are not in a position to be demanding their release. Mr. Stark is very much human, Captain Rogers will at the very least be recuperating a long time if I order him shot in the head, and your friend Dr. Banner – while very hard to kill – will be devastated, I'm sure, to wake up and find he's killed your partner. I am not going to negotiate. I am not going to rethink this. I am, however, giving you one last warning that I am going through with this plan and would hate to have to kill an Avenger because you couldn't bother to follow simple instructions. Are we clear?"

Clint was silent. He felt cornered and helpless and neither of those feelings were something he was comfortable or even familiar with. He felt like a sinking ship with no way to call for help. After a moment, Clint swallowed his pride and replied tersely, "We're clear."

"Good. Now that we're on the same page I have something for you to do. First, I have been watching the same videos as you are. You are correct that the Captain is suffering. I would not like to put him through any undue pain. I would be willing to move all the Avengers into the same room if you complete the next step," Kline offered.

Clint frowned. "What's the next step?"

"You need to get ahold of a sniper rifle," Kline said.

Clint frowned deeper. "I do better with a bow and arrows."

"I'm sure you do but this job requires a bullet," Kline replied sounding slightly like one would when talking to a child.

"If you wanted someone to shoot a gun you could've hired anyone," Clint said. "Why me?"

"I've come up with another rule. Don't ask questions," Kline replied. "You'll get information as you require it and not a moment before."

Clint thought about the Avengers again. Moving them into the same room wouldn't put them in any less danger. If anything, the danger increased by sticking them all in the same room with a potentially lethal Hulk. The pro was their being together. In the end, the image of Steve shivering alone is what made him agree. "Fine. One sniper rifle and you put the Avengers in the same room at a normal temperature. Any specific type of sniper rifle?"

"You'll need a .338 Lapua Magnum in desert tan," Kline replied.

"That's a very expensive gun," Clint replied.

"I know for a fact that you are a millionaire, Agent Barton. Over two million dollars in your bank account. Surely, you could buy a six thousand dollar gun to help out your friends, right?" Kline asked.

Clint scowled. "Excuse me? Now I'm funding your hit as well?"

"I'll reimburse you," Kline replied simply.

All jokes aside Clint could see where this was going. "You don't want anything connecting you to this hit?"

"Does anyone really want to be connected to murder?" Kline asked.

Clint couldn't fault him that. He took a deep breath and then asked, "What exactly am I getting myself into?"

"Rule number two, remember? No questions," Kline said.

"Alright, I'll get your damn gun," Clint said.

"Get the gun. I'll call you," Kline said.

There were only two places to get the gun in London. After making a dozen calls Clint discovered one very small and very legal gun shop with the Lapua Magnum and a private seller. Although, nowadays he got most of his weapons through SHIELD there had been times both before and during his time with his SHIELD that he'd had to procure a gun on his own. He'd quickly learned that gun shops, while great for the average citizen and/or criminal, for an assassin on a deadline there were simply a hassle. On the other hand, the private seller was one he'd dealt with in the past and for a long story short, it hadn't ended well. This, Clint thought, was where the saying stuck between a rock and a hard place came from. Naturally, the last thing he wanted to do is put himself into another bad situation with the private dealer but using the gun shop would open up a whole can of worms that could get his team killed and SHIELD on his trail. Clint decided on the risk with the seller. Better him than his team, right?

He took a cab to the man's estate and paid a hefty tip to the driver with the request that he not mention Clint's trip. The cabbie shot off to the city after counting the money and nodding. The gate was locked tight but to the left a little box was attached to the wall and Clint pushed the button to signal his arrival. The box crackled before a distorted voice asked, "Hello?"

"My name is Clint Barton. I need to speak to Vincent," Clint said.

"Do you have an appointment?" The voice asked. Clint couldn't contain the urge to roll his eyes.

"No. Just tell him Clint Barton is here to see him. I'm sure he'll want to see me too," he replied. Actually, he'd be lucky if Vincent didn't tell this guy to shoot him at the fence.

"One moment," The voice said and even through the box it sounded very put out. After a long moment the voice was back. "Someone will be waiting for you at the front door."

The gate swung open long enough for Clint to walk in and then swung shut again. There was someone indeed standing and waiting for him at the door. Clint recognized her as Vincent's almost wife as in she'd dragged him to the alter four times and yet somehow Vincent was still unmarried. She was dressed in something a little too tight and a little too revealing for a woman of her age but she still managed to look dazzling in it so who was he to really judge? Without a word she led him to the back of the house where Vincent was sitting comfortably in a patio chair no more than ten feet from his pool.

When he was close enough, Vincent motioned for him to take a seat across from him. Clint took the seat reluctantly but took a page out of Natasha's book by trying to garner some favor. He certainly wouldn't do that by going with his typical sarcasm and insult attack. "Hello Vincent."

"Do you have an appointment with Mr. Dominick?" The voice asked.

Clint couldn't contain the urge to roll his eyes. "No. Just tell him Clint Barton is here to see him. I'm sure he'll want to see me."

"One moment," The voice said. A moment later and the voice was back, "Someone will be waiting for you at the front door."

The gate swung open long enough for Clint to walk in and then swung shut again. There was something indeed standing and waiting for him at the door. Clint recognized the woman as Vincent's almost wife. He'd heard stories that she'd dragged him to the alter four times and somehow remained unmarried. She was dressed in a red cocktail dress a little too tight and a little too short for a woman of her age. Without a word she led him to the back of the house where Vincent was sitting comfortably in a patio chair no more than ten feet from his pool.

When he was close enough, Vincent motioned for him to take a seat across from him. Clint took the seat reluctantly. He swallowed down his typical sarcasm and attitude in favor of charm. He was going to need as much as he could get. "Hello Vincent."

"Hello to you too," Vincent said. "I was more than surprised to find out you wanted a meeting with me."

"Look, Vincent, I-" Clint started.

Vincent didn't let him get far with it. He held up a hand to stop him. "Don't make excuses. I hired you for a contract and instead you chose to take shots at me. That's betrayal no matter what you say."

The truth was not how Vincent made it sound. Indeed, Clint had been hired for a contract hit but had neglected to inform him that the hit was on a seventeen year old kid. The young man's mistake? He'd gone to the police with information proving one of Vincent's goons had killed his parents. Clint didn't kill kids, especially when they were innocent. Clint helped hide the kid and tried to teach Vincent a lesson. Looking at the man now, the lesson hadn't sunk in. Clint couldn't stop himself from replying, "I told you from the very beginning that I wouldn't kill kids."

"Seventeen is hardly a child," Vincent said.

Clint ground his teeth together but found he didn't really have time to argue with him. "I'm sorry. Now, I need to talk to you about a gun."

"What gun?" Vincent said with a frown, at least for now distracted from their past dealings.

"A .388 Lapua Magnum in desert tan," Clint said.

Vincent's brows rose. "Specific of you."

Clint sighed. "Do you have it or not?"

"If you're here and you're asking you obviously know I have one," Vincent said. "And since you're here that must mean there aren't a whole lot of them around. How badly do you want this gun, Clint?"

Clint didn't like this. "There are other places to get the gun, Vincent."

Vincent's eyes narrowed. "Just for a moment, let's pretend I'm not a complete idiot. You are here asking for my help when I specifically told you that if I ever saw you again you'd taste your testicles. You don't just want this gun, you _need_ this gun. Let's skip the shop talk and get down to business. What are you willing to do for this gun?"

Clint eyed Vincent warily. "I guess it depends on what you want done?"

"Would you kill someone to get it?" Vincent asked.

Clint nearly growled. He'd build the gun from scratch before he allowed himself to be blackmailed into another contract killing. "No."

Vincent sighed. "Alright, you can pay me for it."

"Money?" Clint asked. "That's all you want."

"Not exactly," Vincent said. "I want compensation for the hit I paid you for all those years ago and then you can pay me for the gun too."

Clint was not thrilled at this idea considering he was living off a government salary but he still nodded his head in agreement. The Avengers came first. "Fine."

"I'm also going to require something for my pain and suffering," Vincent said with a smile.

Clint sighed. "How much?"

"Not monetary," Vincent said. "After all the pain and suffering I went through I think you can go through a little of the same as well."

Clint glared at him. Vincent was proposing that he let his goons use him for a punching bag. Any day of the week, normally, Clint would have walked out long ago. The price he was suggesting was too steep for any gun. Clint entertained the idea of actually making the gun from scratch but only for the shortest of moments. "I have to be able to walk out of here and complete a hit."

Vincent shrugged. "We'll go easy on you."

Vincent's almost-wife brought out a sleek laptop computer. Within moments Vincent had it booted up and ready for money transfers. "Go ahead, Clint. Keep in mind that's a six-thousand dollar gun."

Clint busied himself by putting his numbers into the computer and then deposited sixty-six thousand dollars in the bank. "There, that covers everything."

Vincent examined the transfer and shook his head. "I forgot how expensive you used to be. You contract killers are like prostitutes though, you get what you pay for."

Clint really didn't appreciate being compared to a prostitute but he didn't say anything in argument. "Alright, how are we doing this."

Vincent arched an eyebrow. "You're really going through with this? You must really want to kill someone."

"I don't want to kill anyone," Clint snapped without thinking.

"Then you must really want to protect someone," Vincent said. "Either way…"

Vincent snapped his fingers and two hefty gentlemen in black suits came to either side of Clint. They handcuffed his wrists to the arms of the chair and then dragged him out a ways from the table. "I promised Clint here that he'd be able to walk out of here when you're done. Make sure I keep that promise."

They started in on his stomach. He arched as much as he could to soften the blows, a natural reflex but the goons quickly got the idea and one stood behind him with an arm wrapped around his upper body to keep him straight. After five or ten minutes of that and a coughing fit that didn't seem to want to end the bigger man socked him in the jaw. His head snapped to the side and made him see stars for a moment. He got punched in the jaw again before gasping out, "Vincent!"

"Stop!" the man shouted. The goons backed off instantly. Clint let his head drop a little and tried to breathe evenly and ignore the pain. Sure he'd been through worse but pain was pain. Vincent got up from the table but a flash of light drew Clint's attention to the steak knife he'd grabbed. He came right up to Clint and positioned the knife over Clint's heart. Clint didn't dare move. "I think he's been roughed up quite enough but, I don't know if he'll remember it."

Vincent raised the blade so that it rested just below his collarbone. He pushed the tip in and dragged it across Clint's chest. All he got from the archer was a painful sounding hiss. Finally he pulled the knife away and said to him, "I hope it scars, Clint."

Vincent motioned for the goons to release him and then the woman brought him the rifle in the box. Clint checked to make sure everything was there and then nodded. "Can't say it was a pleasure doing business with you, Vincent."

Vincent shrugged. "I thought it was exhilarating if I do say so myself. You'll see I included the scope free of charge."

Clint didn't even dignify that with an answer as he walked around to the front of the house, down the driveway and out of the gate. He made only one stop on his way to the hotel room and that was to pick up some antiseptic and gauze. He bandaged himself, hid the gun, and promptly fell asleep on the hotel bed. Clint knew he should stay awake and finish this but he couldn't find the motivation in himself. He'd been running for this man since nine this morning and they were approaching midnight for London now. He dreamed that the Hulk married an Iron Man suit in a cold chapel. The Avengers were there in the pews, including Bruce and Tony, and Vincent was the priest. Strangely, Kline didn't make it into the dream at all and that was the only thing Clint remembered when he woke up. Kline was never there.

* * *

Pepper picked up her phone again. No missed calls from Tony, no messages sitting there and waiting to be answered, nothing. She wasn't worried about him, Tony would hate for her to be worried about him, but it felt odd. Usually, even exhausted she rated a small good morning text or a call to ask exactly how much paperwork she had left so he could have the cook start dinner. Maybe staying up for thirty-six hours straight was his limit before he crashed and burned without worrying about his precious technology. She pushed the button to get her assistant. It always felt weird to call her assistant here considering she'd been the assistant to Tony for so long. Angela came in near silently, "Yes, Miss Potts?"

"Go ahead and cancel all of Tony's meetings for the next few days. He's not feeling well," Pepper said.

Angela gave her a warm smile. "That's the excuse you used last time, Miss Potts."

Pepper flushed. "Right, well…"

"I'll come up with something," Angela said before taking her leave.

Pepper dropped her head into her hands. She probably should have made Tony get up and go. It was no one's fault but his own that he'd stayed up for three days straight but she couldn't help but feel like he deserved some rest. Just because he stopped being CEO of Stark Industries did not mean he didn't have responsibilities where the company was concerned. If you added that to his duties to the Avengers, his fervent attempt to make Stark Industries run on clean energy, and the day to day activities of being famous and it was no wonder that every so often Tony crashed.

Of course, the worry was still there and it was that worry that almost made her leave for the day and see how Tony was doing but she still had an hour or two's worth of work and surely Tony was fine.

* * *

Tony was not fine. He was bored and he was tired but he was not fine. The hours he'd managed to stay awake were making him miserable. The headache he was starting to get made him feel like Clint had shot him in the head with an arrow or the Hulk had put him through a wall. As it was he couldn't actually get to sleep. Exhaustion may have been keeping him drained but it was fear that kept him awake. Alone in a room where his own creations had finally turned against him and Tony's body had decided he would not fall asleep and be vulnerable.

The Iron Man Robots, because although they might normally be used for suits they were certainly not doing _his_ bidding right now, had made if painfully clear that Stark wasn't going anywhere, wasn't building anything, and any attempt to do either would result in his immediate physical harm. Do not pass Go and do not collect two hundred dollars.

"So…are you able to talk?" He asked them for what may have been the hundredth time. Silence greeted him as usual. He tried another of his hourly questions. "Are the rest of them okay?"

Nothing. Not like that was anything new, they'd been ignoring him from the first minute but it was still frustrating. Perhaps Tony Stark hated being in the dark, figuratively not literally, more than anything. "Eventually, you'll get tired with my incessant talking and you'll reply. Everyone breaks eventually."

Somehow, though, he'd managed to retain that wit of his. Tony Stark was not fine.

He was okay.

* * *

**AN: So…yeah. There's Chapter Three. Hope you liked it! Oh wow, here's something. If you liked it you could tell me by reviewing in that little white box. And if you didn't like it, well, you could tell me that there too! Wow. Review please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: So, this chapter is a little shorter than some of my other ones but as it reads over 3000 words I'm happy. I just berated a writer on here for writing a chapter of 750-so words and then demanding fifteen reviews before she posted the next chapter. I'm sorry if I offend anyone on here but I don't think it's okay to demand x number of reviews on a chapter that's shorter than my grocery list. Sorry, I'm a little heated right now. You're probably tired of hearing me rant so…here's the story.**

**Disclaimer: It's mine! It's mine! The Avengers, Clint, SHIELD, Clint, Stark Tower, Clint! Oh, wait, that was a dream. Nevermind.**

* * *

Clint made only one stop on his way to the hotel room and that was to pick up some antiseptic and gauze. He bandaged himself, hid the gun, and promptly fell asleep on the hotel bed. Clint knew he should stay awake and finish this but he couldn't find the motivation in himself. He'd been running for this man since nine this morning and they were approaching midnight for London now. He dreamed that the Hulk married an Iron Man suit in a cold chapel. The Avengers were there in the pews, including Bruce and Tony, and Vincent was the priest. Strangely, Kline didn't make it into the dream at all and that was the only thing Clint remembered when he woke up. Kline was never there.

* * *

There are always two choices. Two paths to take. One is easy. And it's only reward is that it's easy. –Unknown

* * *

Clint woke with a start, like the way you jump right before you hit the ground when you dream you're falling. His head was pounding and his body was stiff, both likely came from the vigorous beating he'd received. He sat up slowly trying to reacquaint himself with an upright position. He impressed himself by not throwing up and just as slowly as he did sitting up, he tried to stand. The world didn't go black and Clint didn't collapse. Vincent, surprisingly enough, had kept his word. He'd been able to walk away and he could complete a hit. Clint sent out a small thank you to no one in particular and started moving.

He checked to make sure the rifle was still in the room, it was. He took a quick shower to get rid of all the dried blood and then changed the bandage on his chest and then he picked up his iPad to check the team. They were unmoved and they looked miserably bored but they were okay. In fact, the only team member that looked even remotely in pain was the Captain. He was still shivering but Clint was guessing that the temperature was still warm enough for his healing abilities to keep him awake. He wasn't sure that was a blessing for the Captain or a curse.

Finally, he checked his phone. He'd saved this for last; terrified that while he'd been unconscious Kline had decided to give him that call. He didn't have any missed calls or unopened text messages however. A cell phone rang but it wasn't the one in his hand. Clint followed the sound of the ringing to a bag next to the doorway that Clint was sure hadn't been there earlier. Clint opened the bag to find a phone down at the bottom. The Caller ID read BLOCKED and Clint answered with a vague, "Hello?"

"Agent Barton, glad to hear you've found my gift," Kline said.

"You do know I have a phone already right?" Clint asked.

"Forgive me if I don't want to use your SHIELD issued phone to discuss a contact hit with you," Kline said sounding not at all repentant.

Clint was about to reply when his other cell phone rang. Clint cursed by couldn't hide the fact from Kline. "Should I ignore it?"

"No, that'll only give them reason to worry. Answer but stay on the phone with me and put them on speaker phone," Kline demanded.

Clint followed the instructions, not eager to get one of his team members killed over a phone call. "This is Agent Barton."

"Agent Barton," Fury said said. His booming voice seemed only louder over the phone. "Is everything okay?"

"Remember," Kline said quickly. "You want to keep SHIELD out of this."

Clint sighed. "Yeah, Director, everything's fine."

"Have you heard from Kline?" Fury asked.

"I haven't seen hide or tail of him, sir," Clint replied truthfully. Phone calls, yes, but had he seen Kline? No.

"I'm worried about your team," Fury said.

Kline's voice hissed at him over the phone. "Think very carefully about how you want to respond."

Clint knew how he wanted to respond. He wanted to tell Fury that his team was indeed in danger and that if something didn't go right for Clint soon he was going to be committing an unsanctioned hit. Unfortunately, none of that could be spoken with Kline privy to every word. "What makes you say that?"

"I was on the phone with Captain Rogers this morning. I was telling him about Kline before the call was lost," Fury said.

"So?" Clint asked. "It took Rogers nearly a week to learn how to just make a call on the cell phone. I'm not surprised that he loses a call now and again."

"I haven't been able to reach him since," Fury said. "Or anyone else."

"Look, Director, I'm sure it's Natasha trying to give everyone a break or one of Stark's inventions gone wrong or, hell, maybe the Hulk got a little too close to the phones in the training room. Who knows? I do know that if Kline's coming, he'll be coming after me."

"Get some rest," Fury snapped back and then he hung up.

It was more than frustrating to know he'd kept Fury off Kline's trail for a little while longer. Kline's smug reply following certainly didn't help. "They talk about the Widow's manipulation skills but you definitely have talent."

Clint nearly growled. "I got your gun. Now put them in the same room."

"I know you have the gun," Kline replied and with a slight chuckle continued. "And it looks like it might have cost you more than six thousand dollars."

"Sixty-six thousand plus pain and suffering," Clint repeated Vincent.

"You need to make some new friends if this is how your present ones treat you," Kline said. "Don't worry, I'll reimburse you though. The cash part only. Pain and suffering doesn't look good on me."

Clint didn't want the man's money but he didn't argue. "So what's on the agenda for today? Do you want me to bomb a daycare? Fire a missile at my face? Sell me for cheap labor?"

"Well, as exciting as that all sounds – melodramatic aren't you – just sit tight for a while. It's going to take me a while to get all of your friends into one room," Kline replied. "Suspicious bunch."

Clint frowned. "Why is it going to take a while?"

But he was talking to a dead like, Kline had already hung up.

* * *

Steve was sure he was going to lose his mind. The cold never relented, the shivering had him biting his own tongue, and he was so damn tired. Only the biting cold kept him awake which wasn't doing him any favors. Time seemed to stretch forever alone in the training room where nothing, ever changed. And that's probably why Steve thought himself hallucinating when he heard the doors click open.

His head shot up. The room, so empty, made the unlocking echo off the walls. Would a hallucination echo? Steve fought the stiff muscles in his body as he stood and carefully walked over the door. He squashed any hope inside him that the doors were actually unlocked. Steve wasn't sure he could handle the idea of freedom if it wasn't real. He took a deep breath and pushed against the door. When it opened for him he let out a cry of joy. The warmth from the hallway made his skin hurt like thousands of little needles but Steve didn't care. He was warm. Steve still shivered feverishly as his body desperately continued to try and rid himself of the settling hypothermia but he kept walking forward. The door shut behind him and clicked as it locked again. Steve frowned and walked farther down the hall. When he got to the end and to the other door he found this one locked as well. Steve cursed silently but his train of thought was derailed when the sound of the door unlocking filled the empty hallway. Steve pushed against it and it, like the training room door, was now operable. Steve stepped through and shut the door behind him. The unmistakable sound of the door relocking made him frown again. Steve continued forward, obviously whoever was controlling the doors intended for him to do so. The doors led him through several hallways and several rooms and down two floors before finally locking him in Tony's largest conference room. Steve had been in there a few times before. There was much space and two doors but after allowing him in there the doors had stopped opening.

For the first time in over twenty-four hours Steve heard a voice that wasn't his own. Unfortunately, it was only Jarvis and even more unfortunately, it didn't sound like the friendly Jarvis Steve had grown to like. "Containment protocol continued. Isolation protocol complete. Threat not active. Repeat, threat not active."

* * *

Paper was not dangerous to an Iron Man suit, not even when it was crumpled up into tiny balls that stung normal human skin. The Iron Man Robots did not seem to have a problem with Tony playing with the paper on his desk. He'd reached for it to do origami, finally reaching the point of boredom where _origami_ was a plausible use of his time. Of course, he'd never quite mastered the patience required for origami like Bruce had so halfway through a crane he crumbled up the paper and threw it at the nearest Iron Man. It smacked the faceplate and bounced off onto the ground. The Iron Man Robot didn't react. "Going to take that lying down?"

As usual the Iron Man didn't say anything. Now, approximately three hundred paper balls later this was less boring than origami but still growing dreary. Tony packed four paper balls into the palm of his hand and threw them at the nearest Iron Man simultaneously. All of the sudden, it stepped forward. Tony jumped out of his seat and swore. Of course, it chose now to show its displeasure when Tony could hardly use _I didn't mean to throw it at you _as an excuse. The Iron Man Robot grabbed Tony's upper arm. Instinctively, he tried to pull away but only succeeded at nearly pulling off his own arm. "Ow."

Jarvis voice came over the speakers again. "Containment protocol continued. Isolation protocol complete. Threat not active. Repeat, threat not active."

The Iron Man Robot pulled him closer to the door. Tony ignored the bruising pain as he drug his feet. He wasn't sure where these robots were taking him but he certainly wasn't going into a situation blind. He'd had enough of a bad situation already. "I am not going anywhere with you."

In the end, however, Tony's protests did nothing to help him. Against six Iron Man Robots he was useless and they managed to drag him down several halls before he finally gave up fighting and walked with them. He hated the thought of giving up but recognized the intelligence of conserving energy for a future battle. Finally the door to one of his largest conference rooms opened and Tony was gently pushed inside. I guess they didn't want to harm him too bad too soon. The door closed shut behind him and then locked, he could hear the click. Tony turned to face the room. Just as his eyes landed on Steve sitting in a chair the door on the other end of the conference room opened and Natasha and Bruce came through. Tony noted that their hands were cuffed together and caught the tip of what was likely a gun. Steve stood. "Oh, thank God. I wasn't sure what had happened to you guys."

"Oh, you know, containment, isolation, await further instructions," Tony said. "The same thing Jarvis has been broadcasting for the past two days."

Steve frowned. "I didn't hear any of that until I got in this room."

"Where were you?" Tony asked.

"The training room," Steve said.

Tony cringed. "The speakers aren't hooked up in there. You wouldn't have heard a thing."

"God," Bruce said. "I thought it was bad with just me and Natasha but to have no one at all? You two must have been miserable."

Tony fanned himself, starting to feel the astronomical heat in the room. "Are they trying to cook us in here?"

Steve sighed and looked away. "I was cold. I guess I went overboard on the heat."

Tony marched over to the thermostat. His jaw dropped. "No kidding. Eighty-five is overkill even by my standards."

Tony busied himself in stabilizing the temperature while Natasha asked him a question. "Where did they keep you, Tony?"

"My lab with six of my closest friends," Tony said. "I just about lost control of my bodily functions when the Iron Man suit sat up on its own."

"They had an Iron Man suit watching you?" Bruce asked.

"They had _six_ Iron Man suits watching me," Tony said with a glare at the door. "And one of them almost shot off my hand."

"They turned the temperature down in the training room," Steve said quietly.

"Jesus," Bruce said. Steve's fear of the cold wasn't a secret from most of the team. They'd all been there when the doctors had finally determined that part of the reason Steve had been asleep for so long was the time he'd spent in the ice.

"Cruel bastards," Tony said. "Who do they think they are?"

"My name is Kline," a voice said and all of the Avengers jumped. The projection of a man, a man Natasha seemed to recognize, appeared in the room.

Steve jumped up from his seat but Tony just motioned for him to sit back down. "Throwing stuff won't do you any good, Spangles. It's just a holograph."

Steve took a seat but looked confused. Natasha seemed to whisper something to him, maybe an explanation. The man cleared his throat. "I must say. It's truly a pleasure to meet the Avengers."

"What did you do to Clint?" Natasha asked.

"Clint's fine," Kline replied. "A little bruised but that had nothing to do with me."

"I presume you are the cause of all of this?" Tony asked. "The temperatures, the robots, the handcuffs?"

"Guilty," Kline replied.

Natasha glared. "You have picked the wrong group of people to use as pawns, Kline. The moment we can, we are going to-"

"Stop. Just, stop," Kline said shaking his head. "You're embarrassing yourself. I am well aware of the power the Avengers have to their disposal but try not to underestimate me. I did, in fact, imprison four of the six Avengers. One is working for me and the other isn't even on this planet."

Kline continued. "Ms. Romanoff, I'm sure you've just about figured out what happened but for the rest of you…you are blackmail material. Agent Barton is currently elsewhere about to complete a contract hit I've hired him for."

"Who is he going to kill?" Bruce asked.

"Even Barton doesn't know that. I'm certainly not going to tell you," Kline said. "I've given him instructions on what to do and the consequences of not following those instructions."

"Why are you telling us any of this?" Steve asked.

"I know that leaving you in the dark is a bad idea," Kline said simply. "Better to lay everything out straight. Any attempt to escape will result in a death."

"No offense but some of us are pretty hard to kill," Tony said.

"Hard but not impossible," Kline said. "Except for Dr. Banner there, but I don't think Agent Romanoff would be very pleased if he got shot in the head."

Tony looked back at Bruce and Natasha whose hands were still handcuffed on top of the table. "So, you're just going to keep us here until Clint decides to put an arrow between someone's eyes and when you're done…what? You're just going to let us go?"

"Yes, despite Agent Romanoff's dubious glances in my direction I am not concerned in the slightest about you're having seen my faces. I have ways to escape even SHIELD's farthest reaches," Kline said.

Steve cleared his throat. "Why are you here?"

"You strike me as the kind of people to think that putting your lives in danger for the chance of freedom is a good idea. I just want to tell you it's not. Your tower is very keen on keeping you inside and if one of you died, well, I don't quite know how Agent Barton would react," Kline said.

Natasha slammed her fist on the table. "You do not get to use us against Clint."

"And yet, I already am," Kline replied. "Make no mistake, Agent Romanoff. If Clint doesn't follow orders you're first and Clint knows it."

Natasha picked up the speaker phone from the conference table and chucked it at the image. It flickered as the speaker phone went through it and then reappeared. "Have a nice day."

The hologram disappeared and Tony turned to her with a shake of his head. "You threw something at a hologram. Now we just look stupid."

"Doesn't this bother you, Stark?" Natasha asked. "Clint is out there doing God knows what and we're stuck here like helpless civilians trapped in your house."

"I'd love to know how he's doing that," Tony said. "Obviously Jarvis needs some updates."

"Tony," Steve warned.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Not to take sides but, Natasha has a point. Even if this Kline fellow is telling the truth and he does plan on letting us all go, Clint is in some serious danger."

"Aw, he's a big boy. He kills people all the time," Tony said, waving it off.

"With the backing of SHIELD," Natasha said. "What do you think is going to happen when SHIELD realizes Clint is off the reservation? Clint has strict orders against unsanctioned hits."

"What about a spy's license to kill?" Tony asked.

Natasha snorted. "Clint's not a spy, he's an assassin and the reality is that Clint's breaking a lot of rules. Protocol dictates that he has to notify SHIELD if any agent is in danger including himself. Instead, he hasn't notified SHIELD of anything."

"Why not?" Steve asked. "Couldn't they help get us out?"

Natasha answered, "Kline's watching and Clint knows it. One call that Kline suspects doesn't benefit him and one of us pays for it."

"Clint 's already dealing with the danger he put us in during the Loki incident," Bruce said. "And I'd bet all my money-"

"Not that you have any," Tony interjected.

"That Clint feels like the only way to get everybody out safe is to just complete the hit," Bruce finished, ignoring Tony.

"And what if Kline is lying and he just plans to kill us all once this is over?" Tony asked.

"And that's why Clint requested that we be put together," Steve supplied finally getting the idea of how Clint's mind was working.

"How do you know he asked for us to be put together?" Tony asked.

Steve shrugged. "I don't, not for sure, but putting us in the same room has no strategic advantage for Kline so unless he's an idiot – which we've clearly seen he's not – then someone else made the decision. I'm guessing Clint demanded we be moved together."

"That doesn't seem like a great idea if they decide to shoot me in the head," Bruce said drily.

"Ah, but Katniss is trying to protect _everyone_," Tony said and pointed to the cameras in the room. "There are cameras all over the tower. If he saw Steve slowly turning back into the human Popsicle he might have thought it worth the risk."

Natasha growled. "In the end we really have no idea what Clint is thinking right now."

"No," Steve said. "I think we're right. He put us together for a reason. He knows what he's doing. I say we wait and see if he can give us any more help."

Tony smirked. "Well, as long as we're just sitting here. We might could come up with a Plan B."

* * *

**AN: So, I want 20 reviews before I post a chapter. Never mind that is totally unreasonable but I want it and I want it now. I only write for reviews, you know? (Groan). Of course, I appreciate reviews but whether you give me some or not I will post the next chapter next week. Please review but only do it if you have something to say about the chapter. Not because you felt like you had to.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: To be honest, I have a real excuse for not getting this out when I said I would. I, as well as sixty-three other people, am in the middle of my school's high school musical. We're doing The Music Man. I play Mrs. Paroo. We have lots of practices and I'm doing this as well as working, being president of Spanish club, a member of French club, a show choir member, and preparing to graduate high school and become a college student. It's a lot of time consuming work. I'm trying. I know this is late but here it is….the next chapter might be late too. ****Sorry. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

One never gets used to the idea that there is nothing one can do. –_The Doomsday Book_ by Connie Willis

* * *

Clint had all but paced a hole in the hotel room floor. No calls, a black screen on the iPad, and Clint had never been good at being out of the loop. What he would give to know what was going on right now?

Clint swore and not for the first time. He'd never been the kind to sit around and do nothing and yet Kline seemed determined to make him do just that. He was tired, sore, and if he admitted it to himself…a slight bit hungry. With another angry curse born more from frustration and impatience than anything else, he pocketed his two phones and hid the iPad. He gave a last glance to the hotel room and went downstairs to the restaurant. It was fairly fancy, Clint had not held back for the hotel room, and Clint immediately felt very uncomfortable among the rest of the patrons. Natasha would tell him he was being silly, that he fit in with the crowd as much as he wanted to. Clint, however, knew that he didn't belong a table away from a man in a three thousand dollar suit and two tables away from a woman with an eleven hundred dollar purse. Clint barely passed for well dressed in his black pants and white shirt that he'd changed into after stripping of the bloodied and wrinkled clothes from before. As long as he didn't open his mouth too much it was likely no one would bother looking long enough to ask questions.

The hostess led him to a table complete with a white table cloth and a candle in the center. It seemed like bit much for a single man's dinner but every table in the restaurant was decorated similarly. After a moment a young man came over to take his order. "Can I start you off with a drink sir? Wine? Liquor?"

"I'll take a Black Russian and then a bottle of Lykhny," Clint replied. It was a favorite of Natasha's and Clint really needed something of her right now.

The young man nodded. "Right away."

Clint's gaze glanced at the menu without really looking at it. The reality was that he would rather stay in his hotel room awaiting Kline's call than be down here at all. Belatedly, he realized he could have simply ordered room service. He dropped his head into his hands feeling very out of it, in a daze. The waiter came back with the Black Russian, which Clint quickly downed, and then poured a glass of the Lykhny for him. "Are you ready to order sir?"

He hadn't actually even bothered to read the menu. He glanced at it again and ordered the first thing on the menu. Once again the waiter walked off and Clint was again left to his thoughts.

He ran the scenario through his head again but there never seemed to be a good way out of this. Kline appeared to be watching him like a hawk – the irony of that statement was not lost on him – and Clint felt truly and utterly alone. All Clint had ever done is what he was told to do. He did what his father told him, he did what his brother told him, he did what his circus mentor told him, and the one time he had ignored his mentor he'd paid dearly for it, then he'd followed SHIELD's orders…even Loki had given orders that Clint, no matter how reluctantly, had followed. Now Kline was dishing out orders and Clint had to wonder if it was just easier to follow them then to cause a fuss. No matter how much Clint regretted it _now_ once upon a time he'd killed for money. Was killing one person so bad if it meant saving the Avengers? That was a moral question Clint didn't think a nobody born and raised in Iowa should ever answer.

Clint swallowed his food as fast as he good, paid the bill, and left. He darted up to his room while trying to avoid as many people as possible. As he locked the door behind him he vowed not to leave this room unless he had to for the hit. Right now he just felt too damn vulnerable.

Clint checked the iPad again and was pleased to find Kline had finally assembled the team in the same room. They still looked bored out of their minds but the relief on each of them was very visible. Together they were a hundred times better. Clint's phone rang, the phone from Kline. "Yes?"

"Have you gotten on the site lately?" Kline asked.

"You know I have," Clint guessed.

Kline seemed not to take the bait. "I'm going to assume that means you're on now. You'll see that I've held up my end of the deal? All your team members, safe and sound."

"That might be pushing it, Kline," Clint said.

"It's an unstable situation," Kline admitted. "But for now, they're safe."

"Their safety, of course, hinging on me," Clint said.

Kline replied calmly, "I've never claimed any different."

Clint frowned. "Let one of them go."

"Only if my life depended on it," Kline said. After a moment's pause he added, "And it doesn't."

"You'll still have several people I care about," Clint snapped. "What's one less?"

"Rich men do not give away a dollar each time they get one more," Kline said. "I certainly will not give away wealth without gaining wealth in return."

"What do you need done? You were willing to make a deal last time, what will it take to get you to let one of them go?" Clint asked. He knew he sounded desperate but one of them getting out might be the only chance SHIELD had to step in and help him.

"I'm not going to let one of them go, Agent Barton. Anything else you want to deal for?" Kline asked.

Clint ground his teeth together. The problem was how calm this whole conversation was. Clint wanted Kline to start yelling or to speak crazy. Instead, he was dealing with a man who was reasonable. That's what made it so hard to work around it. Kline had set this up to create the least amount of problems. Clint was failing to find a loophole. He sighed. "Take the handcuffs off Bruce and Natasha?"

"No," Kline replied. "As long as the danger is present you are much more cooperative, Agent Barton. The cuffs stay on."

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. I want to talk to them."

"Talk to them," Kline repeated.

"Yes," Clint said. "I want to reach them on the phone and hold a conversation with them."

"What would you talk about?" Kline asked. He sounded genuinely curious.

"I don't know," Clint replied honestly.

There was silence and Clint was sure he was going to get a resounding no. Instead, Kline replied, "Alright."

"Alright?" Clint asked.

"Alright," Kline repeated.

Clint barely held in a sigh a relief. "What do I need to do?"

"Right now?" Kline asked. "Go to bed. We'll discuss your instructions tomorrow."

Clint wasn't sure he could actually sleep right now. "Are you sure it's not something I could do right now?"

"If it was something you could do right now I'd be sending you to go do it. Instead, we wait," Kline replied.

"Alright, we wait," Clint said.

"Get a good night's rest, Agent Barton. It'll be a long day tomorrow," Kline said.

Clint hung up without another word. He put the phones on the end table, checked the iPad one last time, and then lay down on the bed. He remembered thinking that he was never going to get to sleep before he surprised himself by drifting off almost immediately.

* * *

Pepper finally finished up her work and gathered her things. She slung her purse on her shoulder and put the stray papers she couldn't leave in her office in her leather briefcase. It had her initials on it in gold; it'd been a present for her from Tony. Speaking of the devil, she checked her phone. There was still no call from him. Pepper took a deep breath and put the phone away. Worrying about him like this was ridiculous. She would worry herself to death, to say nothing of going gray, for Tony. He was a grown man who was very competent. Sure, he didn't know his own social security number but that didn't mean he couldn't survive a day in his own house.

Pepper walked past her empty assistant's desk on her way out and rode the elevator down to the bottom floor before finally exiting the building. Happy was there, waiting patiently, with the door open. He knew her routine sometimes better than she did. "Hello, Happy."

"Evening, Miss Potts," Happy replied. He helped her into the car and then closed the door behind her. Once he himself got into the car he asked, "How are you this evening?"

"I'm fine," Pepper replied. She chewed her lip, unsure whether to bring Tony's technological absence up. "Happy? Have you heard from Tony today?"

"No ma'am," Happy replied. "But he hasn't left the Tower for a couple days. He's likely just overworked himself. You know how he is."

"Yes, I do," Pepper replied. She gave him a nervous grin. "Let's just try to get home fairly quickly. I could use some reassurance."

"No problem, Miss Potts," Happy replied and she felt the car speed up just the slightest.

Pepper's phone rang. She recognized the number as that of a particularly persistent reporter that had all but begged for interviews from the Avengers. Pepper wasn't sure how the man had gotten ahold of her number but if she found the person who gave it out she was going to make their lives very, very unhappy. "This is Pepper Potts."

"Hello again, Miss Potts," Antonio said. "How are you doing this fine evening?"

"It was good until you called," she replied. "What can I do for you now?"

"Don't worry. The Avengers saving New York is old news now. I'm on to fresher material," he said.

Pepper rolled her eyes. "And yet for some reason you're still calling me."

"Well, fresher in a loose sense. I'm calling to talk about our friend Mr. Stark," he said. "How is he?"

"Mr. Stark does not consider you his friend, Antonio," she replied.

He replied shortly. "Mr. Stark has gone missing of recently."

"Excuse me?" Pepper asked.

Antonio gave an exaggerated snort. "What? You mean you don't know? No one has seen or heard from the man in nearly five days."

She rolled her eyes. "Mr. Stark frequently stays in to work on projects and inventions. This is hardly fresh news."

"In the hours from Tuesday at eight in the morning to last night at eleven in the evening Mr. Stark released no less than one hundred and twenty Tweets, sixty Facebook posts, and sent out nearly eight hundred text messages. As of the last twenty four hours he has not made contact with the world be it physical or cyber at all. No ingoing or outgoing anything," he said. "Now tell me again…how is Mr. Stark doing?"

"Where are you getting this information?" Pepper asked.

"A good reporter never reveals his sources," Antonio said.

She wanted to growl at him. "Find something better to report on."

"This is the news, Ms. P-" Antonio started but Pepper hung up before he could finish.

Pepper gripped the phone tight in her hands. Worry tied knots in her stomach. "Happy, quicker please."

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

She chewed her lip a moment or two before answering. "I don't think so."

Pepper played with her phone. She contemplated calling one of the other Avengers. Surely one of them could go in on Tony and check on him, right? Pepper scrolled through her contacts. Dr. Banner still hadn't gotten himself a phone so the first contact on her list was Agent Clint Barton. After a short hesitation she hit call. The phone rang for a while and Pepper thought maybe Barton wouldn't pick up but then the phone stopped ringing and a deep voice asked, "Hello?"

"Agent Barton? It's Pepper," she said.

"Oh, Miss Potts, how are you?" he asked.

"Good, I'm fine, everything's doing well," she said. She realized she was rambling.

He gave a soft chuckle. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes," Pepper said. "Maybe, I actually don't know."

"Why don't you tell me what I can do and I'll see if I can do it," he replied.

She took a deep breath. "How's Tony doing?"

There was a pause. "Fine."

"Are you sure?" Pepper asked.

"Yeah, everything's great. Tony's hard at work," Barton said.

Pepper frowned. "Already?"

"What?" he asked.

"I just talked to him early yesterday and he'd been up for nearly four days. I guessed he'd be sleeping now," she said. "You're telling me he's already up and working again?"

"Oh," he said. There was another pause before he replied, "He got an idea. I think Bruce told him to write it down quickly and then go back to bed."

Pepper relaxed a bit into the seat. "Oh, I'm glad Dr. Banner is looking out for him. Tony's going to work himself into an early grave."

She heard Agent Barton mutter something like; I know the feeling, before he replied clearly, "I'm sure he'll be fine. Just give him some time and he'll be back on his feet and worrying you about his working all over again."

Pepper smiled. "You know, Dr. Banner is really good at this calming stuff but you could give him a run for his money."

"I've had a lot of practice keeping calm," Agent Barton replied.

"Thank you," she said. "Have a nice evening."

They hung up and Pepper let out a deep sigh of relief. Happy asked, "Are we still heading to the Tower?"

"Yes, Happy," she replied. "I just need to make sure."

"No problem," he said.

Just under an hour later Happy pulled into the parking lot and then right up to the door. The building was fairly empty inside, unsurprising since everyone but Tony and the team went home at ten. As typical, she could see a few floors at the top of the building glowing with light but the rest of the floors were cast in darkness. Pepper marched up to the front doors and let herself in. The elevator was to the back, down the hall, and she walked there with confidence…until the ninja fell from the ceiling. Looking back on that moment, Pepper would logically realize that the man in black was not in fact a ninja. However, in the heat of the moment a man dressed entirely in black that dropped in from out of nowhere brought back memories of old Asian action movies. She screamed and took a step away as he reached for her.

He seemed to curse and reach again when a pop sounded from behind her. Suddenly the ninja was holding his stomach where his black suit was growing wet with liquid. Blood, she realized. An arm fell around her shoulders causing her to scream again. To be honest, when she looked up and saw Director Fury staring at her with the black leather jacket and the eye patch it wasn't exactly a calming sight but it was nonetheless better than anonymous falling ninjas. "Miss Potts, are you okay?"

She couldn't speak yet, the fear had taken full control of her vocal cords, but she nodded exuberantly. He ushered her back out the door. What had once been an empty parking lot was now full of SHIELD agents. "We were hoping we wouldn't have to show ourselves so soon but we didn't know you were coming so it seemed pointless to tell you what's going on."

"What _is_ going on?" she asked.

"Someone, other than Mr. Stark of course, has taken control of the tower," Director Fury explained. He gave her a look. "We think that Mr. Stark is up there along with Agent Romanoff, Dr. Banner, and Captain Rogers."

"But Tony can't be up there," Pepper said. "I just talked to Agent Barton. He said Tony was fine."

Director Fury frowned. "Yeah, we're trying to figure that out too."

"What do you mean?" Pepper asked.

"Miss Potts, Agent Barton was at a safe house last time we checked but when we went to make sure he was okay he was no longer there. We believe he's rogue right now," he said. "SHIELD isn't sure what part he has in this but he has a part. That much, we are sure of."

* * *

**AN: So….that's it. I'd really like it if you reviewed. It'd be nice. If I had cookies I would give you one for a review. Unfortunately, I don't have cookies. But it's the thought that counts…right? Oh well, review please?**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Well, I told you it was going to be late. I pushed this chapter out despite a ridiculous schedule and a bad case of writer's block so I'm still pretty proud but I know some of you might be upset. Here's the chapter anyways though. Thank you to my reviewers. If I didn't get to messaging you back I'm very sorry but like I said, I wanted to make getting the next chapter out my priority. Thank you as well to all my favoriters and alerters and my viewers. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: I disclaim everything I don't own.**

* * *

People always have choices. They may not always have options, but they do have choices. –_This Can't Be Love _by Kasey Michaels

* * *

When the call came in Clint was fast asleep with his head in the pillow and the hotel blankets caught around his lower body. He pulled himself up to a seated position and answered the phone with a rough and tired, "Hello?"

"How did you contact SHIELD?" Kline asked. He didn't sound angry, not even frustrated.

Clint tried to clear the fatigue from his brain as he asked, "What?"

"SHIELD is sitting outside of Stark Tower. Obviously they've been tipped off. I'm just curious how you managed to contact them so quickly," Kline replied.

Clint rubbed his eyes but was finally starting to grasp the situation. "I didn't contact SHIELD. They must have figured it all out on their own."

"You didn't contact them," Kline said.

It wasn't a question but Clint answered anyways. "I haven't contacted anyone. Miss Potts called me during the night but I didn't tell her anything."

"Yes, Miss Potts stopped in last night," Kline said with a bitter tone.

"What happened? Is she alright?" Clint asked. When this was all over Tony would hunt Clint down and kill him for putting Pepper in danger.

"Miss Potts is fine. When she entered the building my men tried to grab her," Kline said. "And they got a bullet for their troubles."

"So you didn't get her," Clint smiled.

"No," Kline bit back. "We didn't get her."

"Where do we go from here?" Clint asked. Kline's first rule had been to keep SHIELD out of this whole charade.

"You have a deal to complete," Kline said simply.

Clint frowned. "What?"

"Remember? You get to phone your friends after you do something for me," Kline explained. "Is any of this ringing a bell?"

"Yes, but…" Clint trailed off. "What about SHIELD?"

"You're wondering why I didn't kill one of your friends, no?" Kline asked.

"Well, yes," Clint replied.

Kline sighed. "I believe you didn't contact them. I've kept a pretty close watch on you and I don't know when you could've made the call. I also don't think you're stupid enough to lie to me when I asked you earlier. I think your Director Fury figured out there was a problem on his own and worked out an idea of what's going on from there. Based on that, you've been following the rules which is all I've asked of you. I still have all the Avengers, SHIELD can't come in without a risk to themselves and the Avengers, and no one but you and I know where you are right now. I still have the advantage here and until that changes I see no point in disrupting a process that works pretty well for us. Do you?"

Clint asked, "SHIELD doesn't worry you at all?"

"I'll keep my eyes on them but the truth is, I figured they would find out eventually. Now is a little sooner than I would've guessed but I was prepared," Kline said. "Any more questions?"

Clint remembered rule two and replied with a quick, "No."

"Good. You can learn," Kline said. "Now, destroy if your SHIELD phone and hide the gun. You won't be needing it for a day or two."

"If I get rid of my phone I-" Clint started.

"Rule number three: Don't argue. I know what I'm doing, Agent Barton, so just do what I told you and I'll call you in three hours," he said.

Clint sighed. "Got it."

Kline chuckled. "Lighten up. No one's dead yet."

That didn't make Clint feel any better. He pulled out the SIM card and snapped it and then tossed the phone in the trash. He was going to leave when he stopped and picked the phone back up. He popped the back of the phone off again and set it down on the bed.

* * *

"This is ridiculous. We have two geniuses, a super soldier, and Xena the warrior princess and we can't manage to break out of my house?" Tony asked. "I reject that as a real thing."

"Tony, be realistic. When you rebuilt Stark Tower-" Bruce said.

"Avengers Tower," Tony corrected.

"You built it to withstand the Hulk, an alien space army, demi-gods, SHIELD, nuclear missiles, and anything else the world might throw at it," Bruce finished. "By sheer accident you built an Avengers proof house and as it is we're short two Avengers."

"I don't feel good," Tony said. He turned around and barely made it to the trash can before emptying the contents of his stomach into the bin.

"Lovely," Natasha said.

Steve was there immediately with a hand on his back. "Are you okay?"

"No. I'm not okay," Tony snapped. "I'm exhausted, hungry, angry, and helpless. And now I'm sick. I am the opposite of okay."

"What do you mean you're exhausted, Tony?" Bruce asked.

"What day is it?" Tony asked.

"Sunday," Natasha replied.

Tony slid down the wall to sit on the floor. "I haven't slept in six days."

"Good God, why didn't you say something?" Bruce asked.

"I forgot," Tony replied.

Steve frowned. "You forgot?"

Bruce was checking Tony's pulse as Natasha answered, "At a certain point without sleep you start having memory lapses. It starts small; you forget why you walked into a room or what you said last but then eventually you forget where you are and even names of people and things. Tony, what's this?"

Tony looked to where Natasha was pointing. "A trash can. The trash can I just threw up in."

Natasha picked up a pen and asked, "And what's this?"

"It's a…a…a thing that you write with. I don't know, Stalin," Tony said. He shook Bruce off his wrist. "Stop touching me."

"Is he going to be okay?" Steve asked.

"Well," Bruce replied. "I'm no medical doctor but I know enough to know that he won't be if he doesn't get some sleep soon."

"Why doesn't he just go to sleep? You get tired and you go to sleep. You don't even really have to think about it," Bruce said.

"It might have something to do with him being held hostage before," Steve said.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Tony snapped.

"I read everyone's files. He was tortured and he lost someone," Steve said. "Apparently it was pretty bad."

"Tony doesn't handle not being in control very well," Bruce said.

"His mind is keeping him awake then," Natasha said. "He's using it as a defense mechanism."

"How do we make him sleep?" Steve asked.

Natasha shrugged. "I've used sleep deprivation against someone before but I've never had it used on me."

"People use this as a form of torture?" Steve asked.

Natasha nodded. "And it's pretty effective. Ask Stark what his Social Security Number is."

Tony looked up at her suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"Paperwork," Natasha replied smoothly.

"Two-six-nine, one-three, one-nine-nine-five," Tony said. "I memorized it after Pepper told me I didn't know it."

Steve just shook his head. "Could we knock him unconscious?"

"Not without doing some brain damage," Bruce replied.

"Not all head injuries result in brain damage," Steve replied.

"Do you want to take the risk?" Bruce said. "No, what we need are some sedatives."

"Hey! Kline! If you're listening we need some sedatives in here. Now!" Steve yelled.

Jarvis' voice came through the speakers. "Message recorded. Request will be processed."

"Great," Natasha said. "We got voicemail."

"I'll take voicemail over silence any day," Steve said.

"Hey Stalin, would you sleep with me if I paid you a million dollars?" Tony asked.

Natasha scowled. "Never mind. I vote we knock him out."

* * *

Clint had hid the gun and dropped the SIM card pieces down a drain into the sewer. Now he was sitting alone on a park bench and praying he'd done the right thing by trying to leave SHIELD a message. He'd had no time for high tech or coded messages. He'd simply written everything he knew on a piece of paper, folded it up, and stuck it in the back of the phone. The battery itself was resting in the watery depths in the back of the toilet.

If Kline found out though, he was screwed. Clint checked his watch as the second hand clicked toward the three hour deadline. Clint's phone rang. "Kline? It's done."

"Good to hear," he replied. "But we need to talk about our deal."

Clint asked warily, "What?"

"I know we dealt originally for a phone call but I'm going to give you a choice. When was the last time you checked the site?" Kline asked.

"I'm checking now," Clint pulled the iPad out and logged into the site. Natasha and Bruce were crouched next to a sickly and surly looking Tony. Steve was pacing on the other side of the room. "What's wrong with Tony?"

"From what I've gathered, sleep deprivation," Kline said. "Your friends are asking for sedatives."

"Then give them some," Clint demanded.

"Sedatives will cost you, Agent Barton," Kline said.

"I'll pay for the damn sedatives, Kline. I'm funding everything else on this venture why would I be thrown by this?" Clint asked.

"That's not what I meant. We make deals," Kline said.

And Clint had already made a deal. Now he understood. If Clint wanted Tony to get the sedatives he needed then the phone call would have to go out the window. "Fine, no phone call."

"Good decision," Kline said. "I'm sure your friend Tony will be greatly appreciative."

"What do I have to do?" Clint asked.

"How are you pickpocketing skills?" Kline asked.

Clint was an assassin, not a spy. They'd learned out to pickpocket in training but Clint hadn't needed to ever really put it into use. "I know how."

"You don't sound very confident," Kline replied.

Clint sighed. "We went over it in training but I'm no expert."

"Well, I guess it really doesn't matter how you get it. I'm going to text you a picture of a man and some information. He has an a key card on his person. You're going to need to get it," Kline said.

Clint rolled his eyes heavenward searching for help. "I'm not a spy, Kline. I'm a sniper."

"That sounds like your problem," Kline said.

"I may not be able to do this," Clint pushed. "I have a specific skill set and pickpocketing is not part of the set."

Kline sighed. "Look, Agent Barton, I have full confidence in your ability to do this. You'll be amazed what you can accomplish when you have to."

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't getting anywhere this way. "Fine, fine, I'll figure it out."

"How long do you think this is going to take you?" Kline asked.

"It can't take long," Clint said. "Tony needs those sedatives yesterday."

Kline chuckled. "I like the way you think. Get this job done and your friend will get what he needs."

"He'd better," Clint said with a small threat in his voice.

* * *

"I don't care what it takes," Fury snapped into the phone. "Find Agent Barton now or they'll be looking for you!"

Pepper walked over to him with purpose as he snapped the phone shut. "Director, what was that?"

"A phone call, Miss Potts," Fury replied.

"I got that much on my own, thank you. It had something to do with what's going on here," she said.

He glared at her. "Afraid not."

She put her hands on her hips and glared back at him for all she was worth. "I work in the big business world, Director. I've learned to spot lies fairly quickly and you shouting Agent Barton's name at the top of your lungs certainly helped me figure it out."

"The information I received on that phone was classified information," Fury replied.

Pepper was momentarily speechless but she recovered quickly. "Don't give me that load of bullshit. You've broken the rules before and you can do it again."

Fury seemed taken aback, and then he put his hand on Pepper's shoulder. "Miss Potts, that was a very different situation-"

"You do not get to prioritize human lives," she said icily.

"I'm not trying to," Fury said. He took a deep breath. "Walk with me."

Pepper followed the director the farthest edge away from the mass of SHIELD vans, personnel, and equipment. "This isn't nearly far enough but it makes me feel better."

"What's going on?" Pepper asked.

"We know where the Avengers are and we know, generally, what Jonas Kline's eventual goal is. Clint, Agent Barton, is the wild card here," Fury said.

"So you've decided to look for him," Pepper said.

Fury nodded. "Unfortunately, it's a bit like finding hay in a stack of needles."

Pepper frowned. "That's not how the saying goes."

"Trust me when I say that my version is more accurate," he replied. "Clint off the map and I, honestly, don't know what game he's playing."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"We're not as stupid as the Council likes to act," Fury said with a slight grin. "Clint is not going rogue. This Kline person wanted Clint to do a contract hit for him and Clint said no."

"A contract hit…you mean like an assassination?" Pepper asked.

He nodded. "Now the Avengers are locked up and Agent Barton has gone missing? Sounds like someone couldn't take no for an answer."

Pepper was pretty quick on the uptake. "Tony and the others, they're being used to make Agent Barton do the hit?"

"That's my take on the situation, yes," Fury replied.

She frowned. "So what is Agent Barton going to do?"

"Frankly, I haven't the slightest fucking idea," he said. "Right now, it looks like he's playing Kline's game. Stark and the other's lives are depending on it."

"He's going to have to kill someone?" Pepper asked.

"God help him if it comes to that," Fury said. "He has rules he's supposed to follow. Agent Barton can't kill someone without getting the green light from the council."

"Then give him the green light," Pepper said. "Surely he can get away with it this once because of the circumstances."

Fury laughed. "If only it were that easy. I might have taken the job if I'd known the red tape bureaucratic nonsense that goes into this job. The Council doesn't like me, they don't like the Avengers, and they don't like Clint."

"So, they're going to get the Avengers killed?" Pepper asked. "That's taking it pretty far."

Fury snorted. "They'll get the Avengers killed, hang Agent Barton out to dry for every procedure he didn't follow, and drop me as far as they can."

Pepper frowned. "This sounds very fishy, Director."

"Why do you think we're talking all the way over here?" Fury asked with an arched eyebrow.

* * *

Clint was sitting in front of a fairly pricey hotel trying to determine how he was going to pickpocket an FBI agent. From the information Kline had sent him in the text message, the man was Special Agent Brian Loran and he was here in London to work with Scotland Yard. Clint entertained the idea that Kline was trying to get him killed but that made no sense. If he wanted Clint dead he could have shot him back at the café. Instead he drew out this scheme and had Clint chasing all over trying to get a hit together. He took a moment to check on the Avengers. Not much had changed in Tony's condition but they'd cleared off the conference room table and laid him down on it. Clint didn't get to spend much time checking in on him before Special Agent Loran exited the hotel. Clint got up and followed him.

Pickpocketing, a skill mostly opportunistic in nature, was something Natasha used on every other mission and a skill Clint used to pass the bi-annual qualification test. Thus far the test had never been so hard as to require him to steal from a highly trained law enforcement official. Clint might be willing to give up his soul to have Natasha standing next to him. Clint's mind was working miles every minute but the man in front of him seemed only ready to enjoy the sights and sounds of London. He stopped a few times to check his watch and once to text someone on his phone. Clint might have been able to use these opportunities to pickpocket the man but he'd chosen to wait. The timing didn't feel right.

"You gotta pick a time sooner or later," Clint muttered to himself.

The woman selling newspapers next to him chuckled. "You might want to get that checked out, my dear. Talking to yourself is never a good thing."

He gave her a half smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Thanks."

Clint followed Special Agent Loran around a corner and down a populated street. If ever there was a time to pick his pocket it'd be now. Clint pushed forward into the crowd. He gained on him twenty feet, ten feet, five feet, and then he was right behind him. He was nearly next to him but he waited until they walked past a vendor. Clint took a step to his left to avoid the table and walked right into Special Agent Loran. He grabbed the man's arms to steady himself with his right hand and fished the wallet out of his back pocket with his left. "Sorry, sir."

The man nodded and went on his way while Clint stopped next to the vendor and pocketed the wallet. Clint nearly dropped to the ground in relief. He'd gotten so used to the rush of a hit that going on a mission usually didn't do a thing for him. He hadn't really been challenged since New York. This was an adrenaline rush. His legs felt wobbly but he managed to make his way back to the bench across the way from the hotel. It wasn't long before the phone rang. "I got the keycard."

"Fantastic news," Kline replied. "I'll get those sedatives over to your friends right away."

"What am I getting myself involved in, Kline?" Clint asked. "You've got me stealing from federal agents."

"No questions, remember?" Kline asked.

Clint sighed. "Yeah, I remember."

"Are you ready for part two of this mission?" Kline asked.

"Part two?" Clint replied.

"That keycard is going to get you into Special Agent Loran's hotel room," Kline said. "And you need to get into that room."

"What for?" Clint asked.

Kline cleared his throat. "There are several documents in the room including one set of blueprints."

"I'm stealing blueprints from a federal agent's hotel room?" Clint asked.

"No, you're taking pictures of blueprints," Kline replied. "Taking them would give him a reason to be suspicious."

Clint sighed again. "Fine. What are these blueprints for?"

"Don't worry about that just yet. Get pictures of the blueprints and I'll get the sedatives to your friends," Kline replied.

"I want a phone call after this," Clint said quickly.

Kline snorted. "Not a chance, Agent Barton. This mission was for the sedatives and the sedatives only."

"But I dealt the sedatives for stealing the keycard," Clint said.

"You dealt sedatives for the next part of this assignment and this is part of the next assignment," Kline said.

Clint growled. "You're playing word games, Kline. We had a good thing going."

"I'm not playing anything," Kline said. "There will be plenty of opportunities for phone calls in the future. This is not one of them."

Clint took a moment to count to ten and calm himself before replying. "We'll talk."

"Of course," Kline replied. "Good luck."

"Right," Clint said and hung up.

* * *

**AN: And that's a wrap. It's not my best chapter, I know, but I kind of like it anyways. That's probably pretty vain of me. I would appreciate the reviews since I'm posting this story as I write it. It gives me an idea of what you like and what you don't like. Thanks again and stick around for the next chapter.**


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